Ulterior Motive
by Hay Bails
Summary: Rick has a nightmare and sneaks into Morty's room for a late-night heart to heart. C137cest. First kiss, no smut.


Morty watched first in shock, then in horror, then in annoyance, as his grandfather tumbled face-first onto the bottom six inches of his bed. He pulled his knees in toward himself so that Rick wouldn't fall onto his feet.

"Rick," Morty complained, rubbing his eyes. It was like watching a bad slow-motion circus act. Rick's body hung dramatically in midair before flopping down on the worn mattress. "A-are you drunk?"

He didn't answer. The old man's face disappeared into the sheets.

"Hell," Morty whispered. He could only hope his parents hadn't heard the telltale creak of the bedroom door. What time was it? Three? Four? His muscles tensed as he tried, and failed, to keep perfectly still. " _Rick_."

"Go to sleep," Rick's muted voice muttered.

"W-what?"

"Just sleep, M-Morty."

Something was wrong. Morty knew it. Rick folded in on himself, suddenly seeming frail and thin in the half-light that seeped in from the hall.

"Rick?" The boy sat up, carefully arranging the upper half of the sheet around himself. His grandfather did not respond.

"Um..." he whispered. "Rick, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah." Rick shivered. He curled more neatly into the square of mattress below Morty's feet.

"Why are you in my room?"

Rick remained silent.

"Tell me o-o-or I'll kick you out."

"You wouldn't."

Morty counted silently to ten. "I would."

"You won't."

Morty scooted back, leaning against the cool surface of the wall. A barely-clothed female model laughed silently down at him from a poster overhead.

"I might."

"Hm." Rick wasn't in the mood to be provoked.

"So... what?" Morty sighed. "Did you... have a n-nightmare or something?"

Rick was silent again.

"Oh my god."

"Morty-"

"Oh my god, you _did."_

"Mort-"

"What could possibly scare _you?"_

Despite himself, Rick wheezed out a sad little laugh. "Losing you, kiddo."

This time, Morty was silent.

"Does that really surprise you?" Rick sat up. He was not drunk, Morty realized. Not much, anyway. He looked tired, but his eyes were wide and alert.

"Rick," Morty whined. His brain kicked into high gear. "I-isn't this supposed to go the other way around?"

"What?"

"Y'know, the kid goes into their parent's room when they have a, a nightmare, not... not the other way around... right?"

Rick closed his eyes. "Yeah, well. I'm not your parent."

After a few years, Morty had begun to see it. The small glimmer of broken countenance, the thin hint that just maybe, Rick had the capacity to actually be proud of something. A new invention, or simply a new destination visited via Ricks' portals - each had begun to warrant recognition.

"It feels like you are. S-sometimes."

Rick was proud of Morty.

Morty exhaled. "Y'know, Rick..."

"Yeah?"

"I worry about you."

Rick huffed a harsh laugh, deep in his throat. "All right, grandma."

"H-hey! I'm serious."

Rick sniffed.

Without thinking about it, Morty placed a hand on the warm spot between Rick's shoulder blades. His eyes flicked to the older man's face, seeking approval.

"Hm. Feels nice," Rick muttered.

"Oh. Uh, that's good." Morty felt an unwelcome flush touch his cheeks. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware of his own breathing. "Rick," he sighed. "Why are you here?"

"Ah, kiddo..." Rick's voice cracked. It was barely noticeable, but Morty knew.

"Rick."

The old man turned slightly, catching his grandson's wrist in his warm, dry fingers. Morty's hand reflexively curled into a fist. The thick comforter underneath them whispered in protest when he flinched.

"Easy," Rick murmured, gently working his fingers onto Morty's palm. He captured the boy's thumb under his own. With every movement, his eyes flicked up to his grandson's face. "I won't hurt you."

Morty exhaled, biting off a moan with the end of his breath. " _Damn_ it, Rick."

"What?" Rick whispered, pulling his hand back. "I'm sorry... did I misread the situation?"

"Fuck," Morty groaned. He looked at the ceiling. "No."

Rick's lips twitched upward in the ghost of a smile. "This _is_ wrong, Morty. Just so we're cl- so we're on the same page."

"I don't care," Morty mumbled. He leaned sideways, resting his forehead upon the sinewy muscle of Rick's arm.

"Hm."

Rick placed a finger experimentally underneath Morty's chin. He lifted the young man's head until their eyes met, expressions barely readable in the dim hall light. Morty's heart skipped a beat. He hoped Rick couldn't feel it.

"You can tell me to leave, any time. I'll go. No questions asked."

Morty swallowed. "A-and if I don't?"

Rick wordlessly fastened a large hand around the side of Morty's neck. His thumb traced the boy's jawline with practiced gentleness.

"Geez..." Morty breathed. "Y-y-you're beautiful, Rick."

Rick blinked slowly in acknowledgement.

"C-can I, uh."

"Can you what, Morty?"

"Can I touch you?"

Rick smirked, not unkindly. "Heh... where do you want to touch me?"

"Fuck, I don't know, Rick," Morty moaned. "Your... hair?"

Rick obligingly bent his neck. The teen hesitantly brushed his fingers through the pewter strands once or twice. Rick shivered at the barely-there sensation.

"Where else?" he whispered. He was going to hell for egging Morty on, but the sin had already been set into motion. Might as well ride it as far as it would carry him.

"Um... shoulders?"

Rick's experienced hand guided Morty's fingers onto his collarbone. "That feels nice too."

"Oh... r-really?"

"Really. Want me to show you?" Rick let the weight of his arm fall onto the slope of Morty's shoulder through his hand, squeezing his trapezius. "It's good with a little pressure. See?"

"Ah..." Morty breathed. His back arched into the touch. "That _is_ good."

"Mmhmm. Then if you just let your hand slide down the other person's arm, like this, just a little-"

"Oh-"

"And onto their chest-"

"Rick!"

Rick stopped. "Too much?"

Morty shook his head. In fact, his whole body shook.

"Now you try," Rick offered.

"O-okay..." Morty's fingers inelegantly pressed their way toward Rick's sternum.

"That's good," Rick encouraged. He nodded his approval.

"This seems weird," Morty complained.

"If it's weird we can stop," Rick offered. His eyes betrayed nothing.

"Is it bad th-that I don't want to stop?"

"If you don't want to stop then don't."

"Oh..." Morty breathed. "Um." He clumsily reached up to grab Rick's hair again, pulling the old man toward him.

"You're sure you want this?"

"Geez, stop, stop trying to convince me it's a bad idea."

"Um, earth to Mo-orty, it _is_ a bad idea."

"I don't see you saying no."

"It's a terrible idea." Rick's eyes locked onto Morty's. They were close enough to feel one another's breath, cool air against skin.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me how bad of an idea." Their mouths were millimeters apart. Rick's hand squeezed Morty's shoulder again. He raised an eyebrow.

"You gonna go there, _grandson?_ "

Morty blushed but didn't pull away. "Yeah. I guess I am."

He took a deep breath, like a swimmer before a long dive. Then he pressed his face forcefully against Rick's. It wasn't a nice kiss. Rick's lips were chapped, and his tongue tasted sour. For his part, Rick was shocked into stillness - at least for the first few moments. He knew Morty was attracted to him, but he hadn't actually expected him to _do_ anything about it.

He pulled away hastily, a string of saliva stretching between their mouths. Rick wiped his bottom lip with the back of his hand and belched.

"Wo-w, uh, what-"

"Oh god Rick I-I'm s-"

"-even doing M-Mort-"

"-n't mean to, I swear-"

Rick blinked. "So it's like that, is it?"

Morty set his jaw. "I-I guess so, Rick."

There was a terrifying pause. The chests of both men pulsed in rhythm with each breath.

Rick laughed openly. "You're a terrible kisser, Morty."

"Hey!"

"You can't just th-thrust your tongue down a guy's throat without a little warning." His eyes gleamed. He winked. "Want a few pointers?"

Relief fell over Morty's features. He grinned gratefully.

"Heh. Sure, Rick."


End file.
